


Pratfall

by anexcessoffeels (headbuttingbears)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Crack, Don't Try This At Home, Hand Jobs, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:12:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3629418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headbuttingbears/pseuds/anexcessoffeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wish you were accredited so I could sue you into the ground for malpractice," Barba said viciously. Well, he should have known it might not work. Sonny was a cop, not a physiotherapist. | Barba hurts his back. Sonny has some ideas that might help. Keyword: might.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pratfall

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 16x17 - Parole Violations. Sequel to "Window Shopping," but that's not required reading to understand this.
> 
> For Jenny, who got to experience the end of WS first and was always the angriest about how things worked out. My apologies. I promise no more twist endings. For now.
> 
> I am not a medical professional in any capacity, as will become abundantly clear (though I _have_ thrown out my back; 0/10 do not recommend). Any mistakes or misconceptions about anything are, as usual, mine. Sonny is not a good example to follow. For the love of god, do not do what he does.

Sonny didn't mind playing gofer. The new guy carried the water; he'd been the new guy often enough to know that's how it went. Loads of practice running and fetching. So when Benson got a phone call from the DA and she repeated back, "Missing some signatures on the reports?"

Well, he knew what that meant. He didn't need a tap on the shoulder, but just in case… "You want me to…?" He jerked his thumb somewhere in the direction of downtown.

At least she smiled when she nodded, saying, "Yeah, Carisi's on his way over."

Up and at 'em. At least this unit actually let him do some real detective work when they weren't sticking him with the shit no one else wanted to do, like working the tip lines or feeding the CompStat beast. He had to give them that.

And really, he didn't mind when it meant getting out of the station for a bit. Sitting around all day, his legs went to sleep. Good to get some exercise, shake it off. Gotta stay sharp. And he really, _really_ didn't mind when it meant an excuse to pop in on the ADA. Just to see what kinds of cases Barba was juggling, that's all. Sonny had a professional curiosity.

Mostly. Mostly professional. A little homosexual. Nothing he couldn't handle, nothing he indulged. Much. The occasional jerk-off session spent thinking about Barba fucking his mouth didn't count if he only did it once in a while, right? _Once in a while_ being a loose term with a lot of leeway depending on how often he'd seen him recently, and how much he'd annoyed Barba in the process, and what the man had been wearing at the time.

Look, there were a lot of variables in play that he was just happier not thinking too hard about. He didn't have time for that shit, he had a job to do. Right now it wasn't particularly glamorous, collecting paperwork, but that's why they paid him the big bucks.

At least he knocked first. He'd seen people barge in on Barba and been totally unsurprised at the resulting bitchy attitude they'd gotten in response. Growing up in a house full of girls, Sonny knew better than to enter a room without knocking first. _Always knock_.

No answer. No biggie, knock again. "Hey, Barba, you in there?" thrown in for good measure.

A faint banging noise. Then: "Come in." Definitely Barba, but sounding oddly strained and coming from the wrong direction.

Because he was on the floor. Flat on his back on the floor with his arm stretched out to the side. Sleeves rolled up, tie loose and askew. Very askew, like he'd just… dropped.

Sonny strode in, hands up and out like he was going to… What, pat him down? He was already down. Down on the _floor_ , looking rather casual about it, like that's where he wanted to be, but that didn't make any sense. "Are you okay? You want I should call an ambulance?" He had a vague thought of maybe checking him for injuries, but the look Barba gave him put paid to that. Which was good, because that was not how he'd wanted to run his hands over the other man's body. Ever.

Barba stared up at him. It was a strange vantage point, he looked… a hell of a lot smaller than usual. Very far away. _Wrong_. "Calm down, Carisi. And close the door, I don't need anyone else overreacting."

His family had him well-trained – Sonny did as he was told even if he didn't understand it. Barba didn't _look_ sick, and he wasn't lying in a pool of his own blood, but why else would he be down there? Barba didn't belong on the floor. He'd get _dirty_.

A glance around the room didn't reveal any obvious explanation. The round conference table looked closer to the windows than he'd remembered seeing it last, and one of the chairs was pulled out a sizeable distance, Barba's jacket hanging off its back. He glanced at the ceiling – no lighting fixtures, but… had Barba fallen and he was just too ashamed to say anything? Nothing made any sense. "You have a pretty decent couch, you could've sacked out on that," he joked nervously.

"You know, I totally forgot?" Barba's voice was thick with sarcasm. Rule out a fall and head trauma. Sonny had to figure the subsequent wooziness would have mellowed him out at least a little. "The wood floor looked _so_ comfortable and inviting, and then once I got down here I realized it was perfect for a bit of free-association brainstorming, so I figured what the hell? Why not make an afternoon of it?"

Low blood sugar? Maybe he'd fainted, and people could get downright mean when they hadn't eaten in a while. But Barba ate all the time, Sonny'd noticed – snack foods, things he could scoop up in his trash can lid of a hand and munch one piece at a time, quick efficient bites as he talked, or huge piles of take-out that he shoveled in on someone else's dime. People were constantly buying him food, trying to get in his good graces, and it mostly worked. So it probably wasn't low blood sugar. Barba was a well-fed guy. He was… _thick_.

Sonny was tired of guessing. The timeline made no sense - Barba had been on the phone with Benson less than an hour ago, and now he was on the floor. This was one mystery he could not solve. He slipped his phone out of his pocket, swiping his thumb across the screen to unlock it. "I'm callin' an ambulance."

"For fuck's sake," Barba grumbled. "No, Detective, I don't need an ambulance. Just help me up."

No head trauma, not a fall, probably not a heart attack – Barba was stubborn, but he doubted stubborn enough to resist visiting the hospital if the stress had finally gotten to him. ADAs had health insurance like the rest of them. "You sure? You were just saying how comfy you are, I wouldn't want to disturb you…"

"Carisi."

When had that tone of voice started giving him such a charge? He pushed it aside, pocketing his phone again to shrug off his coat and fold it, drop it on the table along with his jacket before reaching down to clasp Barba's out-stretched hand. Warm, a little clammy. "Alright. One, two…" Feet planted, about to tug him up on _three_ , but something in Barba's face stopped him. Some sudden fear snapped across like lightning, there and gone, and he paused.

"Nope, never mind," Barba said, releasing his hand. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Leave me here to die. Pass me those files, I can still work."

"Sure thing." Sonny didn't bother glancing at his desk; probably swamped as usual, his quarry in there somewhere. "If you tell me what happened."

Barba glanced at his desk, not lifting his head. He'd done something to his back. Sonny would bet his badge on it. "They're right there, just-" He barely lifted his hand off his shirt-covered stomach to gesture vaguely. "Drop them? Not on me."

The temptation to do it was strong but Sonny was stronger. He had a lot of willpower when it came to Barba, it turned out. He was constantly resisting doing all sorts of things all the time. Like hitting on him again. "No. Cough up the dirty deets."

Barba made a face. He was looking a little pale. "What are they teaching you in those night classes? Confessions made under duress are inadmissible."

Sonny shoved his hands in his pockets and waited him out with a patient smile. He was going to get a crick in his neck staring down at him but the alternatives were taking a seat and still having to look down or sitting right on the floor next to him, and he didn't think Barba would respond well to the latter.

The long-suffering sigh Barba let out would put his teenaged cousins to shame. "I was rearranging the furniture. I moved the table last week and I didn't like where it was so-"

"I knew it!" It just jumped out. Sonny had to explain himself when Barba gave him one of those looks. "I knew the table'd moved, but nobody believed me. Nick owes me twenty bucks. This is awesome."

Apparently Barba wasn't thrilled by the prospect of surprise Dunkins money. Good thing he didn't know what else they bet on. Like how shitty Barba's mood would be at any given time. "… _Anyway_ , I had some time to kill while I was waiting on you. I was almost done. One chair left, and I was about to move it when I had to answer the phone, and it slipped out of my hand…" The corner of his mouth twitched. "I don't know, I tweaked something. Trying to catch it."

Moved all that furniture only to be laid low by a piece of plastic that weighed less than a pound. Life was funny sometimes.

Sonny peered under the conference table – Barba's phone, lying a few feet away and hopelessly out of the man's reach, indicator light flashing sadly. It probably hadn't been separated from Barba for so long since the day it came out of the box. What a strange and frightening world that little BlackBerry had found itself in. "Looks to me like you more than tweaked something. How'd you end up on the floor?"

Barba stared past him to the ceiling, cheeks pink. "I couldn't stand up. Straight. At the time, down seemed like the better option."

Been there, done that, knew it was definitely _not_ the better option. Getting up became rapidly impossible, but when your spine was screaming at you thinking rationally became very difficult. "Freaked you out, huh?"

Barba's blush intensified. "The floor's clean enough," he said, side-stepping the question. "I'm on excellent terms with the cleaning staff. They do a great job in here."

"Mmm, I'm sure," Sonny agreed, eyeing the length of Barba's body under the premise of checking out the floor. He was going to be stiff as a fucking board if he ever got up. Clean but _hard_. "You know, you should really be more careful."

"Thanks for the advice, so appreciated right now," Barba said, clasping his hands over his chest and twiddling his thumbs slowly. Like a cat's tail sweeping back and forth when you pissed them off.

Sonny generally preferred dogs. Not so touchy.

"I'm just saying, you're getting old, you gotta be careful about this kind of shit," he continued blithely. "My great-uncle, he threw out his back once. On his sixty-first birthday, actually. Talk about your many happy returns, am I right? _Pow_."

Barba exhaled deeply, winced, and blew out a shakier, more cautious breath. The guy really needed to relax. Calm down. Think less about how much pain he was probably in.

Sonny could totally distract him and test a hypothesis at the same time. He'd sat in court, heard some truly garbage summations from the defense that seemed to go on forever, and he'd usually tuned out in favor of staring at Barba. Looking at the broad line of his shoulders: never hunched, never slouching. The back of his head: never dipped forward like he was dozing in church during a particularly dull sermon. Did he just zone out when other people outstayed their verbal welcome or did he actually listen?

And how long would he listen _for_?

"Yeah, that's right, no escape now from a Carisi Family Classic," Sonny said, thrilled to have a captive audience for once. People were always telling him he talked too much. Like he didn't know that? He just loved to share. "Awesome. So okay, my Great-Uncle Sal, he threw out his back, right? Lifting this ancient fucking – pardon my French, Counselor – this shitty TV, like an old RCA, one of those _real_ old ones with the tubes and the wood-paneling, heavy monster that…"

He hadn't told this story in forever; he'd forgotten how long it was. Not that Barba was listening. Oh, his eyes were open, his thumbs were still a-twiddle, but Sonny knew that look. Two minutes. That was a minute longer than most people lasted but still disappointing. He didn't let it discourage him, he liked this story.

"And Theresa's like, 'You can't just throw that out, it's illegal, you gotta take the door off first…'"

Sonny wondered what Barba was thinking about. Was it all seashore noises in there, crashing waves and distant foghorns, screeching seagulls like on the boardwalk? Or was he thinking about work? Going over evidence, thinking about case references he had to check. Writing his summation. Sonny felt confident betting on the latter. Barba was a smart guy, an intellectual.

"…So _I_ say, 'Four midgets, sure, that's fine, but who has room in their bed for five, let alone seven?' And _he's_ like-"

The glazed look abruptly disappeared from Barba's eyes. Was 'midget' politically incorrect now? He could never remember. "Please just skip to the part where you tell me what idiotic old country cure your great-uncle ended up taking that was undoubtedly disgusting and worked instantaneously after he resisted needlessly for days," Barba said in one long relentless verbal stab of aggravation. "Refrigerators and Snow White porn aside, we both know that's where this rambling anecdote is going. Stop burying the fucking lede."

Sonny blinked. So he _had_ been listening. Imagine that. Too bad he had to disappoint him. "What? No, Gruncle Sal slipped a disc. He had to get surgery, couldn't get out of bed for months. It was sad, he was a really active guy before that." He paused, remembering the last time he'd seen Sal. Up on the roof in his robe, using a Hoover on reverse to blow leaves out of the gutter. "He died, actually. In bed. Not from that though. Later."

Barba was staring at him with the kind of infuriated expression that made Sonny glad he couldn't stand up. He might hurt him.

Sonny shifted from one foot to the other, trying not to think about all the ways Barba could punish him for wasting his time. That was Night Time Thinking. Right now he had to be selfless or Benson would find out he'd left Barba to rot away on the floor and then he'd get transferred again right after he got settled. He wanted to avoid that at all costs and luckily he knew just how to do it. "Anyway, I was going to say get on your feet and I can fix you, but I ain't trying it with you on the floor." Not that he wouldn't be more than willing to lie down on top of Barba under the right circumstances but now wasn't the time. "Too weird," he added hastily, paranoid Barba could hear his thoughts. That wasn't a completely crazy thing to think, the man gave him looks sometimes like he was a secret telepath and he knew Sonny had been picturing doing indecent things to his ass.

Or maybe the staring gave it away.

Barba squinted up at him, still obviously annoyed about the story. "I don't know what you have in mind but I highly doubt it'll 'fix' me."

A skeptic. Understandable. "No, I'm serious, hand to God this'll work." Unconsciously, Sonny mirrored his mother's usual gesture – one hand on his heart, the other up like he was waving at the Lord Himself.

"…No."

Sonny shrugged. Barba didn't want to be convinced? He wouldn't convince him. _Can't help everyone_ , everyone from his first CO on was always telling him. "Fine, stay there. You want I should turn the lights off when I go?"

Barba reached out to him abortively, cringing. "No! No, fine, Christ, this is not-" He looked a little panicky at the idea of being abandoned. As if Sonny would. Who did he think he was? "No. Just get me up. And then leave. Immediately."

Sonny wiped his hands on his pant legs, stepping over Barba, one foot on either side of his body, and leaned down. "Okay, but remember: you're not going to die," he said firmly, locking eyes with him.

"I know I'm not," Barba replied, eyebrows slightly raised like Sonny had said something outlandish.

"No, but-" Sonny made a sympathetic face. "It's gonna feel like you are."

"Carisi." Barba's hands shook slightly, arms sticking straight out above him. _Stop wasting my damn time already_ , he didn't say.

Sonny was just scaring him more. Moving on. Round two of Operation: Get Barba On His Feet. Sonny grabbed his wrists securely, not too tight, feeling Barba do the same to him. He couldn't be _that_ heavy. He tugged at his wrists a little, trying to get a feel for his weight, and only succeeded in producing a glare and a pained twitch from Barba. "Okay, on three. One… two…"

All things considered it actually went pretty smoothly. Barba was lighter than he looked. Well, sort of, but what was he, a Coney Island weight guesser? Sonny didn't know shit about how dense people did or did not look.

But Barba was on his feet! Success. Even if he was breathing a bit hard. And his expression looked a bit… tighter than usual. _Way_ tighter than usual.

Sonny ducked his head to look him in the eye, but no luck. The guy was just blank. "You good?" he asked, sticking his hands back in his pockets to resist the urge to wave his hand in front of his face or pat his cheek or otherwise touch him. Touching time was over.

Barba gave him a very small nod. Swallowed. Nodded again, a shade more aggressively than before. Took a careful breath, slow in. "I'm…" Tensed on the inhale and the blood drained from his face all at once, and he wobbled, alarming Sonny.

"Whoa there!" Sonny grabbed his shoulders, ignoring his hiss of pain to steady him. Barba was up, he wasn't going back down on Sonny's watch. "Alright, you're alright. You alright?"

Barba weakly tried to bat his hands away but he couldn't get his own hand up high enough to manage. "Get your hands off me," he gritted out, still white as a sheet. His glare was only half-strength but at least he got his giant-ass feet planted for balance so Sonny didn't feel irresponsible releasing him. "Don't just stand there, _fix_ me already," he said, surprising Sonny.

Sonny flexed his hands unthinkingly. "Okay, but…"

"But. What." He'd never taken Barba for a teeth-grinder but he was turning into one right before Sonny's eyes.

Sonny looked him up and down, trying not to think about how close he was going to have to get to Barba for this to work. Were his hands sweating? He wiped them on his pant legs again. "But I gotta put my hands on you? To do it?"

"Excuse me?" Barba finally looked straight at him. Not alarmed or pissed off, just flat incomprehension. What had he expected, that Sonny would say a prayer and wave his hands over him and he'd be healed? He wasn't Saint Gemma Galgani.

"Nah, nah, nah, it's all good, I dated this girl, right? She's a physical therapist, she showed me some stuff." A lot of stuff. Like how flexible he was capable of being under the right circumstances. And how to hold his breath for a really long time. And- Nothing currently relevant. He had to stop thinking about Effie, he was going to start daydreaming and then he'd have to explain away his boner to Barba and really, he was doing pretty good right now, he thought, in the boner department. It helped that there wasn't really anything hot about Barba when he was obviously in pain.

Barba was busy being surprised that a medical professional would ever go out with him, it seemed. Uncool – he wasn't a _total_ lunkhead. "A physical therapist showed you-"

"Okay, you caught me," Sonny interrupted, rolling his eyes. He'd had this exact conversation with his family on a party line. No one could ever just _believe_ him… "She was a masseuse, she did reflexology and that thing that sounds Japanese, Rei-Chai or whatever."

"Reiki?" Barba was looking pasty and bewildered, sweat darkening the hair at his temples, but at least he didn't look like he was actively in agony. See, Sonny was a great distraction.

"Yeah, that! Anyway, I dated her at the same time I used to work in a warehouse, and I used to fuck up my back all the time because I had, like, 'poor lifting technique' or whatever." He smiled at the memory. Shit pay, but the back massages had been free. And the happy endings.

Barba closed his eyes and started muttering. "Why, God? Am I not a good person? Don't I try to do right by others?"

A renewed surge of concern zipped through Sonny. "You know you're talkin' out loud, right?"

"I go to church… okay not _every_ Sunday," Barba continued. "As much as I- I promise I'll go to church more often."

With no sign he was going to stop anytime soon, Sonny decided the best course of action was to proceed. If you're going through hell, right? "I'm just… gonna… do it. Okay?" he warned Barba before stepping in closer. Despite his pallor, the guy was radiating heat, and he gave off a faint spicy whiff of cologne. Nice. Expensive-smelling. Made sense, Barba was expensive- _looking_.

Sonny gently pushed his arms away from his sides, slotting his own under as he carefully embraced him. "Huh, different from this side." He'd never been this close to Barba before, practically hugging him, and he had to squat a little because of the height difference. "At least you're not any shorter, eh? This would be awkward then."

"Just put me out of misery already," Barba whispered into his ear, the tickle of his breath causing Sonny to shiver. He felt pretty much the way Sonny had imagined him feeling in his arms: hot and pleasantly solid.

Sonny clasped his wrists, hands pressing midway down Barba's back, against his spine. "Count of three. One. Two. Three. Four."

Barba, confused, relaxed slightly from his tensing at _three_. "Four? You said-"

Sonny jerked his hands.

There _was_ a faint cracking noise, like packing peanuts being stepped on, just before Barba let out a less easily defined noise. Something like a choking whimper with a splash of yelp mixed in. His arms had risen slightly at some point, and when Sonny let him go and stepped back they stayed up. He kind of looked like a penguin balancing itself on an iceberg, wearing a navy suit instead of a tux.

He clasped Barba's shoulder, wondering if he'd forgotten anything. That was pretty much what Effie had done, although she'd been shorter so… He righted Barba's tie, centering the knot. Loose was one thing, crooked was another. "Any better?"

Barba blinked, arms lowering slowly. "I think… I'm…" He rolled his shoulders experimentally and let out a long hiss, eyebrows drawing down immediately. Stared up at Sonny and said, "Get your fucking hand off my fucking shoulder."

Sonny snatched his hand back and used it to scratch his neck sheepishly. "But does it like… hurt _less_?" What had he done wrong? Effie had always just hugged and jerked. _Pop_ goes the weasel.

"I wish you were accredited so I could sue you into the ground for malpractice," Barba said viciously. Well, he should have known it might not work. Sonny was a cop, not a physiotherapist. Or a masseuse. Masseur?

"I wonder what…" Sonny considered him, hands on his hips. "Was I not- Maybe too high up?" He reached out to tap Barba at the waist, feeling the soft cotton of his blue dress shirt.

Barba _whimpered_.

Yeah, no, he definitely had to try again. Sonny was responsible now, he had to fix him for real. He moved in close again, conscious of Barba tilting away with a small pained sound. "I think I was too high, lemme try again, it'll totally-"

" _Do not touch me_."

Sonny backed away immediately, hands up in surrender. There was some color in Barba's cheeks, but it was in the form of two bright spots of anger warning Sonny off.

Hands back on his hips, Sonny stared hard at him, thinking. He'd show up whining, back aching and in knots, and Effie would crack her knuckles and laugh at him, saying, "From the knees, Sonny, _from the knees._ "

He thought about getting on his knees now, see if maybe _that_ wouldn't make Barba feel better. Unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, and see if some sexual healing wouldn't-

" _Oh._ " Sonny snapped his fingers.

"'Oh' what," Barba said, voice flat as ever but interested despite himself. "What 'oh?'"

"Wow." Sonny rubbed his nose, shaking his head. There was no way Barba would agree to this. Never mind that he'd made it painfully clear that he never wanted Sonny touching him again, he'd said he wasn't gay. And the coworker thing. But still, might as well tell him, right? Lay out the options. Option. Singular. "Okay, so she – Effie, Iphigenia, Greek girl, real into touch-healing and shit – she always gave me a handie first, you know? And _then_ she'd do the-" the noise he made was like Donald Duck being strangled. " _Right_. No, I totally remember now. Damn."

Barba's incredulity was not promising.

Still chuckling regretfully, Sonny shrugged. "Something about how orgasms make your muscles relax or something? She'd just-" clucked his tongue twice and waggled his eyebrows "-and I'd be a hundred percent."

He'd never seen Barba dumbstruck before. The corpse cattle-prodding had come close, but he'd kept talking then, struggling to work through his disgust. This was just… silence.

There was no way he'd go for it. Not that Sonny would- No, he'd totally offer. He wasn't fooling anyone, given the chance he'd offer anything he thought Barba might go for. The problem was Barba wouldn't go for any of it. Hell, he kept offering him proof of his intelligence and the man wouldn't even take _that._ He'd made it mortifyingly clear that he was not interested in any part of Sonny, not his brains and certainly not his dick.

But still, couldn't hurt to ask, right? If the worst he could get was shut down again – and in this case the odds were sky high he would be – then he didn't lose anything by asking. He'd worry about losing face, but he could always regain that later through a staggering insight or three during a case. Besides, Barba had been plenty forgiving of his forwardness before – second time lucky?

Except Barba was smiling back at him, and it wasn't a pleasant smile. It was an _I wish you were dead_ smile.

Whatever, Sonny'd gotten worse. If he slowed down at every yellow light he'd never get anywhere.

"No."

"What have you got to lose?" he asked. "Go on, try walking."

"No, thank you," Barba replied immediately, smile still on his face. "Besides, aren't you straight? Why are you offering to jerk me off for my health?"

"Eh," Sonny said with a lazy shrug. He wasn't about to explain he was mostly straight, just willing to make the occasional Barba-shaped exception. That wasn't any of his business. Funny how Barba asked about _his_ heterosexuality instead of restating his own as a deal breaker. "And I said 'walking,' not 'wanking.'" In case Barba had misheard him.

Barba gave the smallest shake of his head possible while still communicating _fuck off._ "I heard what you said. I'm making an executive decision. I'm going to stand here until I can't stand anymore, and then I'm going to fall down and die. You can go now."

"The Sarge will be so mad. So so so mad." Sonny would definitely get transferred if Benson found out what happened. Not that this was his fault _precisely_ , but everything ended up solely his fault. Sent over for paperwork, left the ADA a crippled wreck. That wouldn't look good come his performance review.

"She'll get over it," Barba said matter-of-factly.

He really wasn't going to budge? Sure. "Your choice, you're an adult," Sonny said, leaving him where he stood to go over to his desk and get what he came for. A quick look revealed the folder full of unsigned reports sitting right on top – none of his, thank God – but he started rummaging anyway. He had a lot of shit on his desk; how did he get any work done?

"Stop, no- That's- No, that was in chronological order," Barba barked from where he stood. "That was organized! Carisi, you- Stop- Oh, Jesus _Christ_."

Sonny looked up to the sight of Barba leaning forward slightly, one hand pressed to his back, fist at his thigh. White-knuckling it through the pain. "Ha! See?" He pointed at Barba, who glowered at him before tipping his head forward in resignation. "You know you're being a stubborn bastard-"

"Not wanting some cop I work with to give me a _hand job_ isn't being _stubborn_ ," Barba muttered.

"-And you know I can't leave you here in the state you're in," Sonny continued on like Barba hadn't said anything perfectly reasonable. "So either you let me take you to the hospital-"

" _No._ "

"-Or you let me try this. I guarantee it'll work." Hadn't he guaranteed the back-cracking? "I _double_ guarantee it'll work."

"Ignoring how _patently ridiculous_ this is, have you considered that maybe I'm straight?" Barba stopped massaging his back to narrow his eyes at him.

Sonny mulled that over for a moment. On one hand, Barba had echoed him when he said he wasn't gay. On the other, he'd never come out and explicitly said he was straight either. Plus, Sonny had been paying attention since then. Barba might not be gay, but there was no way in hell he was 100% pure vanilla hetero extract.

In hindsight, the confusion was Sonny's fault. You shouldn't kiss a guy and then claim not to be gay right after. Sends mixed signals. Sonny could totally understand why Barba wouldn't say anything to him. He wouldn't have told himself either. Besides: none of his business. Until now, he guessed.

"Eh," Sonny said again, shrugging more profoundly that time to communicate how little he cared about how Barba chose to label himself. Being in SVU _had_ been good for him; he was totally growing as a person!

Barba rolled his eyes before letting them drop closed like he was too exhausted by Sonny's stupidity to keep looking at him. "You know what? I'm back to not caring. I hurt too much. Just do it and get it over with."

Had Barba seriously just said he, Dominick Carisi, Jr., could give him a hand job? Was this the real life? Was this just fantasy? Granted he'd had to talk him into it, enthusiasm was low, but… the fuck? He was going to go out and play the lottery the moment he left.

Wait. He hurt too much to care? Did that count as duress? Had he coerced Barba? All the dude rape lately had left Sonny a bit paranoid. "Okay but like… you consent, right?"

Barba's eyes opened slowly.

Sonny held up his hands. "Just checking! Because guys can rape other guys, you know?"

Barba's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "Congratulations, Carisi, you've successfully established a mood that guarantees this will be the _least_ erotic hand job I have ever received. Good job. Full points."

Sonny laughed good-naturedly, more relieved than he could say, and resumed rummaging through Barba's desk with a new purpose. Yet another chance to satisfy his curiosity. Everything was coming up Milhouse for him today. "You got any lotion in this heap or…"

"This is an office, not a massage parlor."

It was Sonny's turn to boggle. "What, you sayin' you've never…?" He made the universal motion for male self-pleasuring.

"I _work_ here." Barba had a poker face that could put the Vegas pros to shame, but Sonny wasn't buying it.

"But like… you're here all the time," he said, pulling out a drawer and finding only files and fresh stacks of Post-Its. "You _seriously_ saying you never rubbed one out in the middle of the day? Not even once during recess?" Bottom drawer and the only thing there was a single plastic-wrapped white dress shirt. "Not sayin' you're a liar but I dunno if I believe that, Counselor."

"I don't find my work particularly… arousing," Barba said, and the way he drew the word out likely wasn't meant to be _arousing_ either but it was. Extremely. "Just spit in your hand and _get on with it_."

The drawer slammed shut with a bang that would've made Sonny wince apologetically in normal circumstances, but Barba's words were ringing in his ears so loudly he barely noticed the noise. Now _that_ was the curtly domineering attitude Sonny had been jerking off to for months. Barba could tell him to go fuck himself in that tone of voice and Sonny would give it the old college try just to make him happy.

Across the room, Barba left off rubbing his back as futile and stood with his arms at his sides, breathing shallow from pain, wholly ignorant of the effect he had on Sonny. Even when Sonny drew near enough to undo his belt, their eyes briefly meeting, Barba remained unmoved.

Tough crowd, but Sonny had had _months_ to think about this sort of thing. Months to imagine being ordered to jerk Barba off in his office – although in his mind they'd always been on the couch. Months to imagine having to prove himself, a twist on what he felt he had to do every day he was on the job. Justify his presence on the squad, and now was his chance for real, he thought, tugging Barba's soft dick out the fly of his briefs.

No reaction. Barba wasn't even looking at him.

Sonny wouldn't say he _pointedly_ spit in his hand to get his attention, but it might have been louder than usual on purpose. And a failure. It wasn't until he took a gentle hold of Barba's cock, slick palm sliding along it in a loose underhand grip, that Barba gave him any kind of reaction.

It was small, but it was there: a soft, shaky inhalation, and a flutter of his eyelids. Sonny had never noticed how green his eyes were before, but then he'd never been close enough to. Except for that one time in the bar, and he'd been busy shoving his tongue in his mouth and then panicking.

Speaking of noticing things… He let out a low chuckle.

"What?" Barba managed to peer at him for a moment before his eyes slid closed again and he let out a hissing breath as Sonny stroked him.

"Hope you're not expecting anyone," Sonny said, eyeing the door, hand working leisurely, not in any hurry. Barba might have been the one who was going to get off, but there was no law saying he couldn't enjoy it too. Enjoy feeling Barba grow and stiffen in his hand, the drag of smooth warm skin against his wet palm.

"I'm not." There was some color back in Barba's face; his breathing was starting to pick up, shallow for a reason other than pain.

"That's good. I didn't lock the door and this would be kinda tough to explain, eh?"

Barba dropped his chin to his chest, swaying slightly towards Sonny. "Why, God? Why- Faster- Why me? Was it because I cursed at that old lady on the subway escalator yesterday? I did it in my mind, Lord, that shouldn't-" Suddenly he grabbed Sonny's tie, not jerking it, just holding on – creasing it – as he bit out, "Carisi, unless you want to be here all fucking day, _pick up the fucking pace_. This isn't Saturday afternoon, I'm not your _bro_ , we're not trading lazy _handies_ after a round of Call of Duty in your mom's basement."

"Is that what you think I do?" Sonny asked instead of admitting that yeah, he wouldn't mind being there all day. Licked his lips, looking down at the death grip Barba had on his tie. Like it was a leash. If he'd yanked on it Sonny didn't know _what_ he would've done. Probably dropped to his knees and begged like a dog or something else equally embarrassing.

Barba opened his eyes to scowl at him. Three-quarter strength; he was feeling better already and Sonny wasn't anywhere near finished. "I don't have a goddamn clue how you spend your time, although considering how willing you were to jerk me off I must admit to a little…" His breath hitched, fingers releasing Sonny's tie to press it firmly against his chest as Sonny did what he was told.

Because if there was one box Sonny ticked on every yearly review, it was _follows instructions promptly_. He sped up, hand gliding fast and easy over Barba's cock.

"A little- Fuck- A little- Oh, _fuck_ yes," Barba groaned, giving up on whatever ego-crushing point he'd been set on making to grab at Sonny's shirt, fist a claw as he steadied himself. " _Ah!_ "

"You need to work on your gratitude," Sonny said without a trace of bitterness. How could he feel anything but insanely turned on when Barba was panting freely inches away, hips rocking minutely and clutching at Sonny with one hand like it was all the contact he'd permit himself?

Jesus, this was better than anything he'd ever imagined and they weren't even naked. Well, almost better. There was that thing with the spanking- He was getting distracted. Focus, Sonny, focus on the matter at hand.

 _Heh_.

He carefully adjusted himself in his pants, not knowing what he'd do if Barba noticed.

Good thing Barba was otherwise preoccupied. "This is _your_ -" Barba jerked at his shirt, almost pulling it free from his pants, eyebrows knitting crankily. "Faster, what the fuck, why do you keep slowing down? _Faster._ Are you deaf?"

Sonny didn't take it personally. He _had_ slowed down on purpose to see if he could get Barba to yell at him. He had a problem, but he'd known that for a while. "You bitch so much, I should just let you do this yourself instead of paying you back."

"Paying-" Barba shook his head hard once, mouth dropping open as he pushed into Sonny's hand more insistently. "No, I don't care, just don't stop. Don't you dare fucking…" He moaned, hand creeping up Sonny's chest to resettle higher, twisting the material as Sonny's own hand twisted over the head of his cock in counterpoint, rubbing the underside up against his palm. "Fuck, yes. _Yes_. I'm-"

"You gonna come?" Sonny asked in a low voice, looming over him, the sound of skin on skin loud and obscene between them, the only familiar part of this whole situation. Jerking someone else off wasn't really that much different from jerking himself off, except for how it _totally was._

"Yeah." Barba nodded, tongue darting out to the corner of his mouth before he gasped, lower lip trembling as he fucked Sonny's fist. "Yeah, yeah, yes, just- Tighter, a little tighter, _please_ -"

Sonny couldn't stop his own groan from rumbling out at evidence of Barba's desperation, and his grip was tight around him, strokes rapid as he whispered, "C'mon, c'mon, Counselor, you'll feel so much better in a sec, c'mon."

" _Fuck_." Barba's head dropped back as he groaned, and Sonny realized too late that they didn't really think this through very well because he had to scramble to the side when Barba came, hand still clutching his shirt. Fluid spattered onto the floor instead of all over Sonny's shirtfront, but he didn't stop fisting Barba's cock. Jerked him dry, thumb dragging over the sticky slit, squeezed him tight just below the head and felt him pulse, and Barba let out the sort of breathy whine Sonny had never thought he'd hear from him in real life. Didn't let him go until Barba's hand dropped from his wrinkled shirt.

Sonny fumbled his handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his hand clean. "Heh. That was poorly planned, wasn't it?"

"What…" Barba, dazed, blinked slowly. Didn't register how Sonny got his dick back in his pants and zipped up in a flash. His orgasm had left him slow and stupid, exactly the way Sonny had hoped.

Because then Sonny could step in close again, smell the musky scent of Barba's body under his cologne, and wrap his arms around him without provoking any kind of objection. Hands clasped lower than before, down at about hip-level, and when Sonny cracked his back again it was an entirely different sound from before.

There was no hint of a yelp in the sound Barba made the second time around. It was a full-bodied moan of complete satisfaction, even louder than when he came, and he sagged into Sonny.

"You alright?" Sonny asked, hopefully for the last time. Nose in his damp hair, trying not to take deep inhalations of the smell of his gel and sweat, commit it to memory for later because that would be creepy. He was heavy in Sonny's arms, far heavier than he'd seemed before when he'd helped him up, and his heart was pounding hard enough Sonny could feel it.

"…Yeah." Barba was quiet, but Sonny still heard him, felt him exhaling roughly. A scrape of his cheek, like fine sandpaper against his skin, and Sonny had to fight not to rock into him, rub his hard-on against his thigh and beg him to return the favor.

Louder than before: "Yeah, I'm…" Barba stepped back, glancing up at him before his gaze settled on some spot over Sonny's shoulder as he cautiously twisted at the waist. Did it again, more wiggle in the motion, arms coming up like he was in an aerobics class. "I'm good. Fine," he said, sounding shocked and looking… good. His face had gone all soft, blush fading but not robbing him of color the way the pain had before. There was even a small smile on his face.

Sonny shuffled further back, mindful of where he put his feet as he retucked his shirt and adjusted himself again as subtly as he could manage. Remembered his jacket and coat, snatched them up from the table to put on and hold before him respectively. Forget the lottery, he was making a beeline for the bathroom down the hall to jerk off the second he was out the door. "Huh. So that actually…? Cool. Cool cool."

Barba paused in his amateur circus freak contortions, smile dimming. "You made that whole thing up, didn't you?"

"Nah, it was totally legit!" Sonny said, bummed that Barba would still doubt him after everything he'd just done for him. "But Effie wasn't a _doctor,_ you know?" Sonny restated. "She was a masseuse. Sort of. She was in training. She's probably a masseuse by _now_."

One of those narrow looks, convinced Sonny was talking shit, but the corners of Barba's lips were curled up so it wasn't so bad. Pretty great, actually.

Sonny coughed awkwardly, hearing a strange buzzing noise. "Yeah, so…?" Gave him an energetic thumbs up because he, Sonny Carisi, was incapable of not making Barba think twice about spending time in his company. But maybe now that Barba knew that time could be primarily spent getting extremely decent hand jobs… Sonny didn't want to get his hopes up.

"Seems so," Barba agreed, dropping his gaze like Sonny was simply too confusing to bother with at the moment. Frowned deeply after finally noticing the floor. Unless he cleaned that up himself, Barba was going to find out just how good his relationship with the cleaning staff was.

"Sorry about that?" Sonny toyed with the buttons on the front of his coat. "I dunno why I'm apologizing, you're the one who… you know."

Barba rolled his eyes, huffing, before tucking his hands in his pockets and turning away from the mess. "I suppose I should thank you." He was so chill; Sonny was starting to believe him when he said he didn't jerk off in here. He'd be a lot less cranky if he did.

"Nah, don't worry about it," Sonny said. "Call it payback for helping my sister and her fiancé out. We Carisis, we don't forget a favor, you know?" He clicked his tongue, gave him solo finger gun action. Christ, he was such a disaster. At least he hadn't called him Daddy.

Barba's grin was crooked, amused but perplexed. "I was doing my job, Carisi, not-"

He waved that away. The buzzing sound was back. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You did us a solid, I do you. A solid."

"Mm." Barba totally picked up on the mental hiccup, but thankfully didn't call him out on it.

"Well." Sonny shifted from foot to foot, looked around the room. "I'll just… get going then?" He stepped over the mess on the floor to snatch the file folder off Barba's desk, turning aimlessly and trying to figure out where that buzzing sound was coming from. Looked down, towards the conference table… "Your phone's ringing," he said.

Barba turned, bent down to look for himself; Sonny didn't bother pretending he wasn't checking out his ass.

Yep, straight to the bathroom.

He nudged the lone chair in toward the table as he passed it on his way to the door, careful not to dislodge Barba's suit jacket.

"Sonny."

He paused, hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

Barba was on his knees by the table, phone in hand. Slapping it slowly against his palm as he stared up at Sonny. "Next time I decide to Feng Shui my office, I'm keeping your number on speed dial. In case I…" He glanced away before he looked back at Sonny with a smirk. "Pull anything."

Sonny grinned back at him, tapping the folder against his thigh. "Call me if you need help moving that couch a few inches to the left."


End file.
